This Is Your Fourth?

Comedian Jim Gaffigan on having kids

I just have to say that people don’t really get excited when you tell them you’re expecting a fourth. In fact, I can only think of fewer than five people who were genuinely excited for us. Most people react with a sense of implicit judgment, which has started to grate on me more and more. No, I am not a fundamentalist Christian who doesn’t believe in birth control (one person outright asked that). Yes, I am a highly-educated professional. No, I am not having ten kids over a twenty-year span. Yes, I actually would like the same amount of maternity leave even though this is my fourth. I find myself announcing with qualifiers, like “this will be our fourth, and last, ha ha” or “this will be our fourth, and it was a surprise…” Why should I have to make excuses?

I’m not sure what I’m trying to say, except to acknowledge that our culture definitely has assumptions about what is an acceptable number of children to have, and stereotypes about the weirdos who don’t follow that assumption. Two kids is good. Three kids is okay, even sweet. Four kids or more is weird and means you’re in one of the categories above: part of a weird religion or uneducated. Besides the fact that a lot of those stereotypes are wrong to begin with, we don’t really fall into any of those categories, which makes it a bit awkward.

There are very few highly-educated professional couples I know with four kids. Fewer still working moms of four. Maybe some of our cultural bent is because, in this recent age of helicopter parenting, we like to have control over our kids; we like to churn out perfect specimens who take eight lessons each and go to Ivy Leagues, and after two or three, it gets harder to hover. The level of chaos exceeds our ability to tightly control every factor of our kids’ lives.

On some level, this is something I’m working out myself. I do think that after a certain number, it’s possible that we can’t be spiritually responsible parents given it’s harder to devote sufficient attention and resources to each child. I do also see that the community benefit of having a larger family is great, and blossoms over time. I have met people from families of four who admit it was unhealthy and they would never do it, and others who loved it and wish they could have four as well. I do realize having four may change how I navigate work-life balance, and that there are other things we’ll have to adjust and be mindful about, but I am stubbornly believing that it is possible to do well, though really I’m uncertain of the details and trusting God in faith more than anything else.

Again, not sure where I’m going with this, except to say that this is what I do believe: that this fourth life is just as precious, just as deserving of genuine celebration and welcome, as the first, second, or third. That the Bible clearly describes children as a reward and praises life in a way that would surely change our self-centric attitudes. That the point of having kids is not to control every detail so we turn out people who make us look good, whatever we define that to be. That it is possible to be an educated professional who meant to have four kids, and I shouldn’t have to give any excuses about it.

Men Are Like Rubber Bands

I’m reading through Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus and one of the more interesting insights was this concept of the “intimacy cycle,” in which regard men are like rubber bands: they get close, pull away, then get close again. “Just as we do not decide to be hungry,” the authors write, “a man does not decide to pull away. It is an instinctual urge. He can only get so close, and then he begins to lose himself. At this point he begins to feel his need for autonomy and begins to pull away.”

The key seems to be understanding that there is nothing personal in the desire to pull away; it’s simply automatic, not a judgment upon the woman. Like a rubber band, there is only so far he can go before he starts to want to return, and the more you let him go during these times, the more you allow him to come back with full “power and spring.” He is able to resume intimacy immediately where he left off, without needing time for reacclimation. Just as earlier you let him go, now is a golden time for talking and deeply connecting. Then after a while, he feels slack again: “to a certain extent a man loses himself through connecting with his partner. … Pulling away allows him to reestablish his personal boundaries and fulfill his need to feel autonomous.”

The problem, of course, is that this rubber-band cycle times poorly with how a woman naturally relates. Just as they are getting deeply connected, he wants to pull away, which she feels hurt by, or at least has no natural desire to do as well, so it’s easy for her to follow him, not allow him space, or punish him for wanting space. Then when he’s ready to return, she feels insecure, or still angry, or simply fears to push him away again, and doesn’t take advantage of that golden period to reconnect.

Most of the time when I read these types of books, I feel there’s gross gender stereotyping, or at least that we don’t always struggle with the common things I hear my friends struggling with in their marriages, but I think there’s some truth to this one. Today being the perfect example; my parents took the three kids. We had a lovely time out, mostly errand-running but fitting in a meal out and lots of deep conversation during which we really connected. Then as soon as we come home, he needs some time away, right after we’ve had all this deep connecting. Suddenly comments he makes like, “it doesn’t have to be so intense all the time,” or observations about how he and his guy friends like to intersperse plenty of mindless activity into their times together, make sense. At does give me some time to catch up on writing…

Journal Excerpt

I always thought a lisp would be somewhat stigmatic, but I’m really glad Eric has one. I used to try to get him to say “socks” all the time, which he pronounced “thock-th.” It’s been more intermittent lately, but lately he’s been going through a dinosaur phase, and is always asking, “ma-ma, why does th-tego-thauruth have th-pike-th?”

Another cute habit he has is saying everything with a smile on his face. Do you want to take a bath? Smiling: “noo, I don’t want to.” Or: “ma-ma, first I eat the candy, then I eat breakfast—” (he calls all meals breakfast) (smiling) “—how ‘bout like that?”

Discipline

“Discipline your child, for in that there is hope.

Do not be a willing party to his death.”

-Proverbs 19:18

I went to a bookstore once and read everything they had there about strong-willed children and discipline. That was about the point over a year ago when I realized Eric, our second, was going to be different than Ellie, our first. If I spoke with a mildly negative tone of voice to Ellie, she burst into tears. A time-out was the end of the world: she sat there sobbing and was so relieved when I came to get her afterwards she easily said sorry and tried to understand why we had put her there.

Pretty much, nothing really straightforward works for Eric. When we try to correct him for crossing a line—he doesn’t do it often, but it could be hitting someone, refusing to hold hands when crossing the street—he gets into a rage. Sometimes his rages are triggered by the smallest things, like my having to interrupt something to go pee, or my asking him if I can change a stinky diaper about to ooze poop out onto his clothing. When he’s in a rage, nothing textbook works. He could care less about whatever I say. Time-outs are me holding him down physically while he kicks and hits me. After a spanking he gets more enraged and continues the bad behavior. We’ve finally come to shutting him in a room, which means I have to stand there holding the door shut while he rages inside. It does bother him he can’t get out, and eventually he will back down a bit, but there’s no saying whether it will take ten minutes or an hour, or whether he will ever say he’s sorry or verbalize any understanding of what I’m trying to teach him.

At the end of it all, I feel pretty battered. These episodes seem to always occur at the worst times; right when I have to leave for work, or when out-of-town friends are visiting. It’s so terribly, dangerously easy to get downright mad at him, or at least view it as a great inconvenience and terrible nuisance.

The ESV version of the above verse caught my eye: “Discipline your son, for there is hope; do not set your heart on putting him to death.” In a topical study I’m doing on parenting, I had just read Deuteronomy 21:18-21, which starts off like it has a great solution for the child who cannot be disciplined, but then ends in saying, take him out to be stoned. The Proverbs verse itself is confusingly translated: the first part is translated “for there is hope,” “while there is hope, “for in that there is hope”; the second part “or you will ruin their lives,” “let not thy soul spare for his crying,” “do not be a willing party to their death.”

The original Hebrew says “yacar” (chasten, correct, admonish, instruct, teach) your son “yesh” (there is, are, being, existence) hope, and “nephesh” (soul, self, desire, emotion, passion) “nasa” (bear, carry, take) “mewth” (to die, kill, send for execution, ‘to die prematurely by neglect of wise moral conduct’).

I take that as meaning: Correct, train, instruct your child, immediately, before too much time passes. Take heart: there is hope. Don’t be swayed by emotions or passions (either yours or theirs); remember this is a matter of life and death.

Lately I’ve been trying to collect mental tapes I can play in my head to help in difficult moments (eg “a gentle answer turns away wrath”). I think I’ll add this one: “discipline your child; there is hope; don’t bear him to death because of your emotions.” I’m asking God to how me how he has disciplined me in my life, and how that has been a sign of his delight in me. I like that image of discipline as a gift: as a meal I serve cheerfully at the table of my kids’ lives (I read that once; it sounded so ridiculous it stuck in my mind), not something I do because I’m dumping my issues on them or bearing them a grudge. I’m trying to remember, this is important, more important than anything else I have going on. It is not an interruption or an inconvenience; it is the main thing.

I’m reading through a book by Farrel called “The 10 Best Decisions Every Parent Can Make” that says, “the more strong-willed the child is, the more creative and layered your discipline will need to be” (eg word pictures, stories, separation, humor). So a practical thing I’m trying is to stay consistent about crossing lines, but otherwise being flexible—maybe diffuse a situation early on with humor, use stories to teach things (Deut 6:4-7) when he’s not in a rage, call out positive behavior. We’ll see how it goes.

Get Me Off The Ship

I am full-force into the nausea of the first trimester, and here is what it feels like: have you ever been seasick on a ship? Dave and I took a boat out to snorkel in Molokini Crater during our honeymoon, and I remember seeing a young couple huddled at the back of the boat. The girl was obviously seasick; the guy had his arm around her hunched back, and she barely moved the whole trip. They didn't eat the buffet spread, or swim with the fishes, or probably register the gorgeous views.

I feel like I'm that girl. The nausea is not bad enough to make me actually puke ever, but it never really goes away, so I go through each day mentally hunched over, in a mild daze. Unpredictable things make it worse: the feeling of air blowing across any part of my body. Dave moving the bed at night. The smell of the kids' hair after a bath. The artificial-sweetener aftertaste of a soda. The sound of a burp. Having to talk louder than a faint whisper ("WHAT?" everyone is always saying).

It's hard to really focus on much, between the nausea and the fatigue. I feel like most of the world just passes me by: I know the sink is accumulating hairs, but I can't be bothered enough to swipe them away. I look dumbly at the sticky spots on the floor and the stray Lego wedged behind the couch. It feels like a Herculanean effort to get up and do the most basic things: look at food long enough to pack myself a lunch. Actually help poor Dave with childcare.

The problem is, I still look normal from the outside. I'm still my old size (and unfortunately, too sick to really enjoy it while it lasts). And I'm realizing what most people with chronic illness probably realize: after a while, no one really wants to hear about your pain. No one really understands it. When "how are you feeling?" is met with the same "bad" or variation thereof every time, even you get tired of hearing about yourself.

I also struggle with questions that most people with chronic illness probably do: why is this happening? what does feeling nauseous have to do with growing new life? I know, the progesterone or whatever-- but why does it have to relate? And I have the benefit of knowing this sickness is both temporary and towards a good end, which many don't.

Maybe God is teaching me empathy for my patients who suffer from chronic discomfort. Maybe he is showing me the people in my life who love and support me unconditionally. Maybe he wants to challenge me to some new level of selflessness. Maybe he just wants me to be willing to dwell in an uncomfortable place and trust in his sovereignty.

But mostly, I just want to get off the ship. I want to press the fast-forward button for the next four to eight weeks. I want to wake up in a world where I'm not nauseous anymore and I actually have interest in things again.

(written September 30, 2014)

Birthday Letter

Dear Elijah,

You turned one a few days ago. Of course you had no idea. We celebrated by making you wear a hat which you didn’t like very much—the string kept getting wedged in your folds of chin chub—and taking a proper photograph.

You’ve grown so much just in the past few months. You took your first steps just the day before you turned one. You can follow simple directions. You grab your own food in the high chair. You are the best sleeper; your bedtime routine is about five seconds long and if you cry at all it’s just for a few moments. You take two real good naps and sleep ten hours overnight without making a sound (these of course are the things that matter).

You are our most fearless baby. You love the water! You want to jump right into the pool, and don’t mind getting water on your face in the tub. You shimmy right up the steps so often we actually understand now why people get stair gates. You love catching balls, and you throw them with so much accuracy your dad believes you have quite an athletic future ahead of you.

You also seem to be a mostly easy-going baby. Your infanthood was such a joy to us. Mommy took care of you all by herself, days and nights, after you were born, and it wasn’t even that bad. You took the bottle when you had to. You slept through the night pretty early. You adapt your naps to our family schedule without much complaining.

Your life revolves a lot around your older brother and sister, who both love you fiercely and loudly. Ellie grabs you around your middle and hoists you around the house (you seem to like that). Eric likes to push his face up to yours and shout really loudly, or drape his blankets on top of your head, or lie on you (you don’t seem to like that). Unfortunately a lot of your energy centers around trying to play with the elaborate toy set-ups that the two of them don’t want you to disturb.

Daddy has a very special love for you. He really treasured your infancy in a way I’ve never seen before. He used to hold you for hours at night, just walking around the house, and maybe as a result you’ve never preferred me to him. He always talks about how cute you are, and he really misses you at the end of a work day.

We love you, buh-bee. Happy first birthday!

Love,

Mommy

Birthday Letter

Dear Eric,

You turn three years old tomorrow. You seem quite uninterested in the whole age thing; every time I bring it up (“do you know how old you’re turning?”) you change the subject (“mommy, is this crocodile good or bad?”), but we finally managed to get you to repeat that you are turning three. You can’t really stick up three fingers yet.

We all went to the store and you picked out T-Rex balloons for your birthday. You didn’t want anything else. Lately you’ve been really into Legos—you’ll play for hours by yourself, setting up your own little arrangements and then stashing them on shelves, probably so Elijah can’t get to them—so we got you some pirate Legos, and Laura got you a Peter Pan set with a crocodile. You were really excited about the strawberry cake with the candle. Right now Ellie is upstairs making you a “surprise” present and you’re asking every three seconds, “and now is it ready?” and she keeps saying, “no, I’ll show you tomorrow.”

You are still so adorable. You have the palest, softest skin and that dimple on your left cheek and you still smile when you talk. You talk, all the time, mostly in English, and you speak with careful, precise enunciation. You ask why about everything (“mommy, why… why… WHY…”), and it really seems like you and Ellie never stop talking to each other (or over each other). Daddy says you are the perfect size to cuddle, not so chubby anymore, but not all angles either, and you really enjoy being tossed around. Daddy usually hugs you real hard while Ellie is praying at night for bedtime.

You’ve thrown some new challenges at us this year, too. Mostly it involves a pretty strong will, which takes the form of not wanting to change out of your diaper or pajamas, or not wanting to leave the house, or not being able to be distracted, cajoled, or reasoned out of anything you’ve make up your mind about. We are all praying really hard that God uses your strong sense of self and will to do some amazing things in the future, and in the meanwhile, we’re grateful that your phase of more frequent tantrums seems to have passed.

Here are the things you like: saying certain phrases (“we have to go to church!”) and copying things your sister just said (“can I be a pregnant baby puppy?”). Pirates, swords, crocodiles, dinosaurs. Practically any kind of food, including spinach and capers. Being naked, or in perpetual pajamas. Listening to your sister read books not-from-imagination, even though it takes a while. “Hugging” your baby brother in an alarmingly enthusiastic and loud fashion. Lugging around ten white security blankets. The knuffle bunny story. Drawing—you finally can draw real figures now (debuted with a family portrait drawn with pen on the glider footrest in your room). Acting out all kinds of imaginary stories, mostly involving animals with nests or hiding from bad guys.

You can be loud, talkative, and silly, but most of the time you are still your quiet, thoughtful, cautious self. I really like watching how serious and quiet you are when you play by yourself, building elaborate Lego arrangements or neatly lining up blocks. I like the way you say, “I love you real bad” and how you like kisses and hugs and how even after a tantrum you really just want us to hold you for a while. You are such a wonderful, gifted, special little boy. We love you, real bad, forever and ever.

Love,

Mommy

Connecting with Jesus

If I've been hearing God saying anything to me lately, it's been to plug in more regularly with him. With Jesus. I heard a talk recently about spiritual pathways, the seven to nine different ways (depending on who you read) that people can connect with God. It wasn't hard to identify myself as a contemplator and an intellectual: I experience God most when I am thinking and reflecting, usually involving journaling and solitude, and when I discover a new concept or learn something I didn't know, usually through exegetical sermons or Bible study. It wasn't difficult to identify Dave as a naturalist: he always feel close to God in nature. The last moment I can think of where we were both awed by nature together was on high sand dunes in a park in the outer banks, and it was as memorable spiritually as it was aesthetically.

But knowing how important it is to connect with God, and even how to do it, it's amazing how little we do. We hear about him, sing about him, read about the Bible more than we actually read the Bible and personally encounter him each day. We pray as if we're talking to ourselves more than spend time in true listening dialogue. If we transcribed our prayers, we'd probably be astonished at how self-centered, rote, or devoid of sincere meaning they sometimes are.

I heard about a study that found that people who read their Bibles less than four times a week had outward lives that were indistinguishable from non-believers. The magic number appeared to be four or more times a week. How often do you read? Are you following Jesus, or your notion of Jesus? Are you growing closer to him every day, or do you not think about him at all most days? Do you ever ask him where he wants you to go in life this day, or two decades from now, or do you pretty much make those decisions on your own and get nominal approval from him?

Sometimes we can get through life seemingly fine without being aware of our relationship with Jesus at all. Then sometimes we have difficult experiences that make it obvious where we stand with Jesus. I find parenting to be one of those experiences-- it is, as a friend once pointed out, a spiritually formative experience. You are going to know where you stand with Jesus whether you want to or not. You can't get by in the end on your own strength of will, or intellectual knowledge: you'll get broken down eventually--it might be the fifth tantrum, or the seventh sleepless night, or the same daily battle to get your kids to eat or dress, but eventually it will become obvious whether you've been coasting on your own powers or are bearing true spiritual fruit.

I think we as caregivers can forget that we need to relate with Jesus. Just for his sake, just for our sake, not for the sake of anyone else. When I experience his love, when I connect with him, when I read the Bible, I have something to draw on through the day. I have this mental image of a garden, where I have to go if I want to bear any fruit. Most of the gardens in the Bible are fruit gardens. I was reminded last week that Judas knew where to find Jesus because that garden was a place he had often gone to before—a place Jesus went to connect with his Father. And of course, when he rose, Mary first walks with him in a garden. How do you most naturally connect with God? What has he been saying to you today?

Praising Effort, Not Results

We are reading this book called Nurture Shock and the first chapter is about a concept that has been filtering through articles here and there lately: that too much praise can be bad for your kids. Kids who are always told they are smart tend to be unmotivated and achieve less because they are afraid to try anything they may fail. Kids who are praised for their effort rather than innate intelligence are more willing to try and learn, deal better with failure, and in the end score better.

The book points out that effective praise—praise that is a positive, motivating force—needs to be a few things:

Specific. For example, a losing hockey college team made it into the play-offs after being complimented on the number of times they checked an opponent.

Sincere. Kids, particularly over the age of seven, can tell if you are faking it. Teens often realize that teachers tend to praise the worst students, and that criticism may be a better sign of one’s aptitude.

Not excessive. Too much praise causes kids to do stuff just to hear praise, rather than for its own sake. They are afraid to commit to things for fear of not succeeding. Parents think they are being supportive, but kids just feel pressure to perform. Kids who get praised too much often get image-focused and overly competitive.

I think there is definitely a tendency, if we aren’t thoughtful about how to praise our kids, just do it generally and rotely all the time. “You did such a good job dancing!” “You’re so smart!” “What a kind person you are!” Which one of us doesn’t want our kids to think they’re the most special and the best? Which ones of us doesn’t subconsciously see our kids that way? There is a place for reinforcing positive behavior, for building up a positive self-image.

But our praise really runs deeper than that—our praise builds our child’s concept of themselves. It constructs their sense of what we value, what is important, how to live. I’ve told Ellie a lot that I think she’s smart when she gets things right, and I’ve noticed that she likes being right and looking smart. Today when Dave corrected Ellie after she pointed out Iceland instead of Ireland on a map, she said, “oh, that’s where I meant to point, but my finger accidentally moved over there.”

So what do I really think makes someone smart? What do I sincerely admire about her? Well, I do admire that she can add, and read, and draw a cat, and I think it’s okay for me to tell her that. But I also admire that she tries to draw camels that look like pregnant dragons, and thinks my dad turned twelve yesterday, and I should try to tell her that too. I should tell her what I really think: that being smart doesn’t mean you always get the answer right, or that you do better than other people. Sometimes being smart means you try, even if you mess up, because you learn and get better. Sometimes people are smart in different ways: they might not read or add well, but they are good at pictures or logic. The brain is like a big muscle; you can get better and smarter about something the more you work at it. And finally, most importantly: that I don’t love her because she’s smart. I love her whether she’s smart or not, whether she’s good or not.

I think one area where we navigate praise well is when it comes to “moral” behavior: being kind, sharing, not getting angry or grumpy. We do tell them that what kind of behavior we want in our family, and praise them specifically for positive results: “I’m so proud that you shared that with Eric even though you got it first.” But we also make it clear that we can’t always be perfect, and in fact that we need God’s help sometimes, and it’s okay to try and mess up, or to need to stop and ask God to help us. I tell her that sometimes I want to get very angry, and I need to tell God I am sorry for that and ask him to help me, and sometimes I still mess up and then need to ask her to forgive me and learn from the experience.

The other day Eric got upset that Ellie had locked herself into their room early in the morning. She ended up saying that they were downstairs, she felt herself getting frustrated at Eric about something, and went upstairs to try to calm down and ask for God’s help. She ended up losing her temper anyway (when I burst into the room), and we had a talk about not locking rooms, but it was interesting to hear her process of trying and be able to praise that.

Journal Excerpt

Ellie has been asking to pray herself each night. Really sweet. Yesterday her prayer went something like this: “I pray for Daddy and Mommy and Eric and Elijah and Ellie. I pray for all the people in Mexico, Canada, and Italy [the countries we’ve studied]. Thank you for these very cute pajamas. Thank you for us all being together. Please watch over us tonight like a shepherd watches over the sheep. Please give Mommy and Daddy a very peaceful sleep. Please give us good dreams. Give Mommy a dream that is beautiful and Daddy a dream that is handsome. In Jesus name, amen.” Eric clasps his hands and bows his head the whole time.

Yesterday before bedtime was this really happy time where Elijah was lying on the ground in his usual fashion, Eric was doing a free-style dance around the floor, sometimes with a sword in hand, and Ellie was copying either of her brothers. We would have to guess who she was copying. She’d do a pretty good job, copying Eric squatting on the ground DJ’ing with his music toy (“WANT JINGLE BELLS? WANT JINGLE BELLS?”), or him swaying on his tippy-toes, or copying Elijah lying on his back flapping his arms and legs with a surprised expression. Then she’d fall down in peels of laughter. Eric had no idea she was copying him.

This morning Ellie was playing some imaginary storyline by herself and said “I need to find someone to marry…” Eric exclaimed, “I’ll marry you!” and went up to her face and said, “Hi.”

Healthy Snack Ideas

Okay, let’s face it: our kids snack. We’ve done various overhauls to improve their diet—a few years ago we nixed all juice to become a milk-or-water household. We try to emphasize meals together and teach them about eating a grain, a meat, and a vegetable, and we learn about food groups. We encourage Ellie, our pickiest eater, to have a try-one-bite policy. I do cook with them in mind, but don’t habitually cook a separate meal to meet their demands. We do our best to minimize snacking before mealtimes or as a habit in the car or stroller; we try to avoid food as a “quick fix” for fussiness.

That said, when they do snack, it can be a huge effort to find stuff that doesn’t come highly-processed, packaged, or sweetened. In her preschool, Ellie gets apple juice and goldfish, which is pretty typical fare. Here are some ideas for snacks that are healthy, and that our kids really like:

Fruit. This one’s easy. Our kids absolutely love fruit: berries, melons, bananas, apples, kiwis, Asian pears, mangos, papayas, clementines, cherries, fresh figs, persimmons, grapes. We make sure to have a variety around at all times (Costco and the Asian market is a go-to for that), we try to experiment with new fruits, and we avoid sweetening with sugar or honey—good fruit is sweet enough as it is!

Popcorn. Lately I’ve been in a homemade popcorn kick. I take one-fourth cup of oil (e.g. grapeseed), dump in a half-cup of popcorn seeds, and heat over medium-high in a pot with the lid on. The kids love watching the seeds pop, then we sprinkle with a little salt and sometimes some sugar; I like flavoring it myself and knowing there’s no butter.

Dried fruit. You have to be careful there’s no sugar added—lots of dried fruit, like cranberries, come sweetened, which is fine as long as you’re aware. We like these dried fruit strips that Trader Joe’s sells; you can get just-fruit type bars from Whole Foods as well—unlike fruit roll-ups, these are just compressed, dried fruit, with no added sugar. The kids love them, though they get stuck on their teeth often.

Homemade granola bars. You have to be careful about the granola bars you buy, but making them yourself is a fun option; you can control the sugar portion, or use honey or agave nectar instead of white sugar, or stick in more oats and whole grains. I’ve tried a few recipes with limited success but might try another one this weekend.

String cheese. I am somewhat of a cheese fanatic. The kids love peeling these apart, and I have to admit, so do I.

Specialty chips. I am also somewhat of a chip fanatic, and there are healthier chips out there if you look around a bit. Our current kick are Chia Crisps’ black bean pickle chips.

Edamame. We buy these frozen from Trader Joe’s, both in and out of the shell. They love popping the seeds from the shells into their mouths. They like eating edamame, or peas, out of baggies or cups while on the go.

Sauce packs. You know what I’m talking about: those yogurts and fruit and vegetable sauces that come in packets they can squeeze and suck on. There are so many brands of these out there but they are quite good and sometimes a great way to get in veges and fruits, as long as your kid is old enough not to be too messy.

Frozen yogurt sticks. Frozen bananas. Pretty much, if we put anything on a stick and freeze it, our kids will love it. We buy these tubes of yogurt that we freeze into yogurt pops. I freeze bananas stuck on popsicle sticks, and even I love those.

Smoothies. We have been on a smoothie kick for a while. Kids love them, you can throw so much into them, and they are so easy to make! We buy huge bags of frozen berries, pineapples, strawberries, and mangos from Costco. For a typical shake, I put in a ripe banana, a couple generous spoonfuls of greek yogurt, a handful of frozen strawberries, and a few frozen pineapples. The frozen fruit automatically adds an icy quality. The pineapples give a nice tang; the bananas make it sweet enough; the yogurt makes it creamy; and the strawberries give it a nice overall flavor. I can throw in some spinach or carrots and they don’t notice. When we have fresh watermelon, we use that instead of yogurt and it gives it a lovely juicy, sweet flavor. It’s amazing how great they can taste without any ice cream or sorbet or even honey.

Rice cakes. You’d think these would be too tasteless, but our kids really like them, even when they are brown rice cakes without salt or added flavoring.

Domestic Support: Creating A Home Atmosphere

One emotional need we studied last week in our marriage class was Domestic Support: the need, often felt more by men, for home to be a safe and stress-free place to return to at the end of the day. The author writes, “A man’s fantasy goes something like this: His home life is free of stress and worry. After work each day, his wife greets him lovingly at the door and their well-behaved children are also glad to see him. He enters the comfort of a well-maintained home as his wife urges him to relax before having dinner, the aroma of which he can already smell wafting from the kitchen. Conversation at dinner is enjoyable and free of conflict. Later the family goes out together for an evening stroll, and he returns to put the children to bed with no hassle or fuss. Then he and his wife relax and talk together, watch a little television, and, at a reasonable hour, go to bed to make love.”

Both of us cracked up reading that. A typical night beings with me texting “Eric is having his second tantrum. Do you have an ETA?” He comes home and I’m arbitrating a dispute between the older two. The kids are all half-fed or being fed at different times; our dinner consists of random bites of their leftovers. He takes Elijah off my hands and heads upstairs to change. We try to persuade and bribe the kids into a walk; when we finally do, Eric’s feet can’t stuff into his frog boots in the onesie pajamas he refuses to change out of, and Ellie doesn’t want to wear a jacket. We do some educational activities, and enter the bedtime routine, which looks something like this. By the time that is over, and Elijah is nursed to sleep for the night, we finish essential chores in the brief time we have before “a reasonable hour” has passed.

At first I got a bit upset about this whole domestic support thing—I work too some days, sometimes as long as he does, yet he’s supposed to come home and enjoy this fantasy while I juggle three kids and barely get time to change out of my work clothes or eat a bite for dinner? I’m supposed to do the house chores, and childcare chores, and work, so he can feel good about having his need met?

But then I talked with Dave more and realized I had thrown myself into things with a typical too-perfectionistic task-oriented mindset—he does have this need, but for him it is really about the home having a certain atmosphere, and my having a certain mindset. It is about the home being a place of peace, and stability. It is about me having a general, managerial awareness of how chores are going, and expressing appreciation for the many chores he does. It is about me communicating through my actions and attitudes that I enjoy the kids, and the home. He doesn’t mind chipping in a lot. And we talked about a few practical things we could work on, the main one being meal planning, for healthy, tasty, balanced food (anyone interested in my posting recipes?).

And that is where I want to be anyway. I want to be someone who can take interruptions and tantrums and turn them into gospel moments. I want to be someone who can say hey, we don’t have it all together and it’s a bit chaotic now, but it’s all okay. I want to be someone who can laugh and make us all laugh. I want to be someone who can plan for the structure and resources we need to eat healthy, move a lot, learn a lot, and create a lot. I want our home to be a peaceful place for Dave, and our kids’ friends, and anyone else who wants to visit. Ultimately, this only happens when I am doing well; when I’ve had time for myself, time with God, and put time and priority into creating this kind of home, not just a home that gets by. I think there have been some good changes just in the past week—we’ll see how it goes.

Photojournal

Dear Ellie and Eric,

Daddy took the two of you out today to give Mommy some quiet at home with Elijah, but as I was walking around the house, there were so many things that reminded me of you that I thought I would take some photos for our journal:

Grandma gave you guys these orchids (the white one is Eric's, the purple one Ellie's), and you guys carry them everywhere around the house and deposit them in odd places. I woke up the other day with these orchids at my bedside table. Yesterday we watered them with an ice cube and this morning Eric kept asking me, where did the ice cube go? Why did it melt? Why? Why? (you are just starting to ask that about everything)

Laura took Eric to the bookstore, and when you had to leave, you kissed the animal you were holding, put it back on the shelf, and said goodbye. She was so touched she bought you this Peter Rabbit. You are really into Mr. Mac-Gwe-Guh and shouting "stop, thief!"

Ellie, you love to color, and most days we print out a few coloring pages. You knew I liked this one so you gave it to me when you were done. Look how good you are at coloring!

Your favorite toy right now are Legos. Legos and reading books-- that's pretty much what we do all the time now. Here is a creation Ellie made this morning that she left on the ground. It's a restaurant that has a plank, for "walking the plank" like in Peter Pan.

We have an "egg" devotional every night that you guys really like. Eric, you like holding the bible carefully with both hands while we read a few verses; then there is a lesson that I write on an egg and a picture representing the lesson you both color. Eric likes getting the tape for us to take the eggs on the tree; then you both pick out two egg stickers for repeating the lesson.

This is Nana, your favorite companion. Named after the dog in Peter Pan, of course. She is bigger than Eric and sleeps most nights with her face lifted up onto the edge of Eric's bed.

Eric, you are really into swords, mock battles, and Peter Pan. You like to be Captain Hook.

Ellie, you are really into princesses (today I had to call you Princess Eowyn). You love dressing in skirts (I don't think you've worn pants in the past nine months) and even more dressing in tulle. This is your play costume; it always cheers you up to wear it.

This is your headboard, Ellie. You have set it up very carefully with pictures of our family. This sock monkey is your favorite animal to hug at night.

Love,

Mommy

Strawberries and Sunshine

We all got out during a recent rare warm day. Or at least the boys did; Ellie stayed inside wearing her usual princess gear.

Learning To Play

One thing you learn being around young kids a lot is that we as adults have a lot to learn about how to play. Kids can anticipate an ice cream cone all day; we as adults can feel like we have little to look forward to, or not even notice the small pleasures in life. Kids play with disinhibited single-mindedness; we as adults get distracted, are always multi-tasking. Kids can imagine anything with very little hardware; we as adults rely on devices, on having images and stories fed to us, and find it harder to believe what we can't see. Kids get lost in the moment; we as adults let worries about the past or future interfere with the present. Any kid would forget the mundane in favor of what's fun; we as adults get so dragged down by the mundane we forget to have fun. Kids laugh a lot-- Elijah giggles now if you just look at him a certain way; Eric likes to crack himself up while doing goofy things like wearing his socks on his hands or walking around with a blanket draped over his face; Ellie goes into peals of laughter over certain sound effects or illustrations in books. We adults can go through a whole week without laughing.

Learning to play is important. It's important to our experience of Christ; I've been reading a book called Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places by Eugene Peterson that explores this concept well. God is a playful God, and we experience him and his creation when we play, in a way that we don't otherwise. It's important to our marriages-- there is the concept of marriage as sanctification, that marriage doesn't exist to make us happy as much as to make us holy-- but I'm learning that just as important is the metaphor of marriage as companionship. We are companions, and that means we play together, we laugh together. I heard Ted Cunningham, the author of Fun Loving You, give a good talk about that on Focus on the Family. It is important to our sex life; Dr. Rosenau writes well about that in A Celebration of Sex. It is important to our families; laughter dispels tense moments, helps us not take ourselves too seriously, and cultivates joy. I heard once about a family that had a rule that they must laugh together every day, and I thought that was great.

What does it mean to play? It means to anticipate fun and then experience fun with nothing held back. It means to enjoy the moment with enthusiasm, humor, verve. It means to do something for the sole purpose of recreation or amusement. It means feeling safe and secure enough to be silly, to take risks, to stop being self-conscious. It means to create: a moment, a story, an object, an experience. Play helps us focus on something outside of ourselves; it invites people to join, bonds people together.

I think play comes more easily to some adults than others, but all of us can be more intentional about it. Incorporating play can mean putting the laundry aside so we can focus all our energy on playing with our kids. It can mean preparing materials in advance so we can play more creatively together. It can mean purposely doing something goofy for the sole sake of making our spouse laugh. It can mean pointing out the humor in a situation that would otherwise be tense or awkward. It can mean scheduling time to do any type of fun activity: horseback riding, thrift-store shopping, driving into the country, sitting by a body of water, board games, tickling sessions, cooking lessons. I think the imaginative- and craft-oriented play comes pretty naturally to me, but it’s good for me to remember to plan for outing-oriented, event-oriented play, and in general that it’s okay to pause in the day’s agenda if it means we all have some fun.

She's Got Perspective

Ellie amuses herself sometimes for long periods of time with pencil and paper, and I typically don't pay much attention to whatever she's sketching, but tonight I sat down and took a good look at a piece she had given me earlier. It's a pretty panoramic scene of royalty, but look at the queen--- she knows how to draw with perspective! Not for the first time, but look how clearly she's gotten it now: she knows the queen should have only one eye, and half a smile. Not sure if the perspective extends to her feet since they still point in opposite directions, but... and she clearly has a crown, a sturdy throne, and a rather chunky hair-tie for her braid..

Recreational Companionship

This week we’ve been examining the need for recreational companionship. It seems to be a common scenario where a couple dates by going out to ball games, going hiking, playing tennis; then after they get married, it comes out that the girl doesn’t enjoy doing those things as much as the guy, and since they’re around each other all the time now and don’t need to do those things to see each other, they split up their hobbies. She goes shopping and takes art classes with friends, does crafts at home with the kids; he plays tennis and does fantasy sports with his buddies.

Not that that end scenario is wrong, but I’ve been realizing this week that to the guy, recreational companionship can be an actual emotional need: he looks for someone with whom he enjoys doing things together while dating, and he marries that person with the expectation and hope that she will continue to be his recreational companion for life. This is not a huge need for me; maybe like most women, I feel bonded with someone through conversation more than through mutual experience or outward activity, but to Dave this is important. It is okay for us to have separate hobbies sometimes, but the more we can learn to be each other’s best recreational companion, the more fulfilling our marriage will be. And the best way to be each other’s best recreational companion is to do things together that we both enjoy—if it’s just him dragging me along to play disc golf or tennis, or me dragging him along to the mall, it’s probably not going to last.

So we filled out this worksheet where we rated from -3 to +3 how much we enjoyed various activities and hobbies. If our numbers were both positive, we added them up. There were two activities that scored a six (going on an overseas missions trip, and doing bible study in a small group), and a longer list of fives. In some cases we had to have separate scores depending on whether the activity was with or without the kids (horseback riding, with kids—probably still a positive number. Classical concert with kids—definitely a negative). It gave us a lot of good ideas for things to try together, and experiences we can plan for as a family, and I think we’ll commit to doing one activity every month for now and see what happens.

But all this also helped me understand Dave as a person better: he is missional. He sees life as a journey. He values new experiences, travel, deepening relationships by going through experiences together. He experiences God and focuses on his inner self most through nature, getting out, going somewhere. I experience God sitting in a familiar corner with a book in hand—so a bit different, but there is a lot in me that responds to the missional too, if I learn to think that way, and prioritize and plan for new experiences. I think having kids has naturally hit his sense of self harder than mine, in that kids make it harder to travel, while I can read a book while nursing. But having kids is no excuse to not live more in this way, and I think being a missional family, reaching outward and experiencing new things together, is a good thing to teach our family, and a valuable way for us to learn and grow together. We’ll see how it goes.

Bringing The Good To Mind

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." - Phil 4:8

Today I am thinking about how important it is to build up a storehouse of good things about the people in our lives, especially our spouses and kids-- good photographs, written accounts of memorable conversations and moments, recognition of good traits and things we are thankful for.

There has been a lot of growth, deep discussion and reflection going on lately, in our marriage, in our parenting, and with that comes some exhaustion, some spiritual warfare, a battle against despondency, plus the usual ups and downs of having three kids aged four and under. It seems like either one or the other is keeping us up at night, or displaying bad behavior that challenges us to display the right balance of gospel-sharing love and boundary-enforcing discipline.

I heard a message the other day about how to deal with anger that recommended pulling that verse to mind, and applying it in the form of thinking about the good in the person you are upset at-- intentionally bringing to mind good about them-- and I think it's actually a really powerful exercise. I remember a parent sharing once that sometimes what helps them when their kid is having a bad day is to remember all the good moments with them, actually just bringing them to mind. That can be hard when we're in the middle of keeping our calm in the face of an illogical tantrum, or getting woken up at five A.M., so it helps to keep these things somewhere easy to access mentally.

So I'm building a virtual mental index card box of good things, about Dave, about the kids. Photographs are great for this. I keep a running folder on my computer, and now a photo stream that syncs between all my devices, of all my favorite photographs of them: Ellie and Eric sitting side-by-side on a bench facing a lake, holding hands while walking down the sidewalk, laughing while going down side-by-side slides. Elijah looking startled while getting kissed by both of them; all of us out eating frozen yogurt. Dave standing broad-shouldered in a dark grey wool jacket against the backdrop of Walden Pond on our first date. I also try to journal down funny sayings, made-up words, favorite stories, conversations and moments, since I know otherwise I'll forget.

Sometimes, in the middle of the screaming, stamping of feet, whining demands, spills, oily fingers, and stubbing of toes by toys, I pull up a mental index card. And it helps me hold on to my sanity for a moment. It reminds me that whatever is going on will pass. It helps me regain some perspective. It reminds me of who this person I love is, and was, and can be, when they aren't acting very loveable in the moment. It helps me see the best of them along with the worst of them, and reminds me that I love them in spite of and because of all of that. Because of course, that is how God loves me-- he sees not only my worst moments and thoughts, but my best, and since he is greater than time, he sees it all together as much as he sees me in the current moment. That's something interesting to wrap my mind around.

Kids and Handheld Devices

This article, promoting the banning of handheld devices for children under the age of twelve (the AAP recommends below the age of two), instigated some conversation between Dave and I. Interestingly, our kids get remarkably little exposure to technology of any sort, to the degree that we get questions and comments about it, but it almost is that way unintentionally. Eric gets disinterested in television programs after a few minutes. Ellie still refuses to watch most movies with a villain or a remotely scary scene (refuses to watch Cinderella because of the stepmother, for example). They know they are not allowed to have our phones, simply because they put it on auto-lock and accidentally dial people. When I first got an iPad I showed them a sketch app, which had some appeal, but they immediately fought over it and I decided real pen and paper were better and since then they just know it’s my computer that isn’t touched.

But electronic devices are in the hands of kids everywhere. When I take Ellie to her ballet class, virtually every boy waiting there is playing with some video game, phone, or tablet (all of the adults are too). It’s just an easy way to parent, I suppose. We do show the kids shows and movies during tiring days or when I need to get something important done (they are mostly into David Attenborough documentaries; we’re working our way through Life of Mammals). I do let them look at pictures I take of them on my phone, and occasionally let Ellie take pictures. That all said, I think it’s good to be purposeful about our kids and technology. I like the idea of them going without for as long as possible while they are young—the kids love going to the library, reading books, drawing and coloring, doing crafts, and they will occupy themselves doing that even out in public. I usually bring Eric some books, stickers, or portable crafts and he does just fine during her ballet lessons. I like the idea that they don’t see me staring at my phone all the time, or ignoring them while staring at my phone. As they get older, I don’t know—where and how do you draw the line, especially as they become aware of their peers having devices? I like the idea of not allowing them to take devices with them into their rooms at night or at all. But then again, I like a lot of ideas that may not be practical, so we’ll have to see how it plays out. For now, I’m glad the issue hasn’t been much of a struggle, and I should remember not to groan inwardly when Ellie asks me to read another book…

More About Sex

So this marriage class is giving us a good structure to work through some deep-rooted, difficult issues in our marriage, as well as providing a safe group environment to share some of that in. Two weeks ago, we worked through what it would mean to overcome angry outbursts. Last week, we worked through what it would mean to have a fully fulfilling sexual life—without getting into too much detail, I thought I would continue along the lines of an earlier post about sex in highlighting a few things I learned this week:

It is important and healthy to talk about this with each other. Sex can be one of the hardest things to talk about—we are often brought up without a model or experience of how to talk about it appropriately; we lack the verbage. We may feel embarrassed or haunted by past sins or hurts. We may subconsciously have a difficult time truly believing that sex in its intended nature is entirely good. We often expect our spouses to read our minds in this area in ways we would never expect them to read our minds otherwise. The more we talk openly about it, the easier it becomes and the better our relationship.

Solo sex in marriage is dangerous. I use that term to refer to any sexual experience or thought not involving our spouse—it would be easy to think that all disappears after you get married, but it doesn’t necessarily. If we aren’t careful, it can create a harmful pattern of behavior and drive you apart from your spouse sexually—because you are applying to them norms of sexual behavior you are gleaning from other sources, or conditioning your body to seek arousal or experience pleasure in certain ways that do not involve your spouse, or decreasing your sexual drive or desire for your spouse.

Our sexual life is a relationship, not an event. The world tells us our sex life is not fulfilling unless we are having sex at a certain frequency during which we experience simultaneous climax every time—and especially in our performance-oriented, results-driven, comparative culture, it can get too easy to focus on that. All that is really not the point. We may not need or want to climax every time. Frequency may ebb and flow depending on our needs or circumstances. The point is that we are talking, understanding, learning, growing, basically that we focus on relationship over results.

Never compare. This really goes for any area of what we do together—ministry, parenting, working—but there is no surer way to destroy or devalue what we have together than comparing, comparing ourselves to other couples or what is implied to be normal, comparing each other with other women or men. Maybe because there is so little healthy talk and appropriate community out there about it, we grasp at these comparisons, but in essence what we are doing is doubting God’s sovereignty and goodness, not accepting each other, opening the door to judgment instead of increasing intimacy. Our sex life is a room in which there is only him and me, and God. No one and nothing else.

Invite God in. Invite him into our sexual life. We did that this past week and I felt it was really powerful. Mostly we did that by praying together every night. It brought out clarity of purpose, unearthed important issues to work through. Have you considered what God is trying to say to you about your sexual life? Have you considered how much he cares about this aspect of you and your spouse?

Ellie, Future Thespian

Ellie got ahold of my phone today and took one hundred selfies for me to discover later. They were all of her making different faces into the camera. The girl is four and she knows how to apply different filters to the camera and I swear I usually never let her touch my phone. And here I used to have charming thoughts about giving my kids disposable cameras when they got older to encourage a photographic eye. And yes, that is a bloody booger that I tried to edit out with limited success.

Speaking of boogers, Eric hates it when I try to wipe out his boogers for him. This morning, he was in a grumpy mood, and when I got two big ones out, he was so upset he grabbed them and tried to stuff them back up his nostrils. It probably didn’t help that I couldn’t stop laughing.

Spiritual Vulnerability in Marriage

One thing this marriage class requires that we do every day is pray with each other. If this feels awkward, they say, just start. If you don’t know where to start, they say, use the ACTS model: during the second class, we filled out a worksheet for each of the steps and then prayed it out loud with each other.

It’s sort of startling to realize we’ve never really had a regular habit of praying together. We talk about emotional vulnerability in marriage, or physical vulnerability, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about spiritual vulnerability. Growing up, our spiritual lives are often very private, and it can be somewhat of a learning process to share that part of your life openly and consistently with another person. I remember how it initially felt more awkward to worship next to Dave than to worship by myself. Ironically, it can be easier to practice regular spiritual vulnerability with a same-gender accountability partner than with your own spouse.

What does spiritual vulnerability mean? I think for me, it means simply sharing my spiritual life with Dave. Sharing about where I feel like I am, about what I’m reading about, what God is showing me, or if I feel I’m in a dry spell, being honest about that. It means building a collective spiritual life, a journey in which we come before and grow in Christ together, in a way that colors but isn’t entirely the same as our individual spiritual journeys. It means learning how to pray together, worship together, and practice spiritual disciplines together.

I’m not sure why intentionally and habitually sharing about our spiritual lives, and building a sense of our spiritual life together, is so difficult in marriage. Maybe it’s the erosion of constant exposure; we’re just around each other so much in so many more demanding contexts that it’s easier not to expend the extra effort. Maybe it reveals a lack of our own spiritual growth; if we don’t think much of God on our own, we’re unlikely to want to share that with each other. Maybe it’s sheer habit.

So at first, it felt awkward, even contrived, to be praying together at the end of the day before going to sleep. But I think it’s becoming a very good thing. A way we can filter through the muck of the day and stay in touch together with what is most important in our lives. A way we can process things out loud before God together. Sometimes I confess I’m so tired I drift in and out of focus, or so distracted my mind wanders, but sometimes I know it’s a powerful time and we are saying what the other person didn’t quite know how to put into words. And I feel like it is something that must please God a lot, that somehow just in overcoming the torpidity and inertia that keeps us from it, we are making a kind of stand, planting an invisible flag in the ground that says, this is who we are. This is who we want to be, a husband and wife who invite God into our relationship and our lives, who lives with our whole family before you.

Overcoming Angry Outbursts

So in my last post about anger, I thought about how anger could be bad or good, and how the point is learning how to be angry the right way. This book we’re studying for our marriage class (Love Busters by Harley) says something more extreme: “there is no place for anger in marriage.” Angry outbursts should and can be completely eliminated in marriage.

He gives several reasons for why angry outbursts should never be tolerated: it never evens the score or solves problems. It withdraws units from the love bank and erodes your spouse’s feelings of love for you.  It is a form of abuse and control. It is a like a psychotic episode: you are irrational, you think your spouse is your worst enemy and deliberately trying to hurt you, your sense of the truth is distorted, and you often forget afterwards exactly what you did and said.

He describes the following steps for overcoming angry outbursts:

1. Acknowledge the fact that you, and you only, determine if you will have an angry outburst. No one “makes” you angry. Until you take full responsibility for your angry outbursts, you cannot learn to control them. You can avoid them if you choose. As soon as you give yourself any excuses for your outbursts (other people, how you were raised, etc), you will not overcome them.

2. Identify instances of your angry outbursts and their effects. Ask your spouse: how much unhappiness do my outbursts cause you? How often do they occur? What do I do/say during them? Which ways you are attacked causes you the most unhappiness? How have they changed in frequency or other ways over time?

3. Understand why your angry outbursts take place. Ask yourself: why do I lose my temper? What are the most important reasons why I have outbursts against my spouse? What do I typically do? What do I think hurts them the most? Do I feel better afterwards and why? Do I feel a score is evened? Do I ever try to control/avoid them; why and how? If I decided never to have another angry outburst, could I stop? Am I willing to; why and why not?

4. Try to avoid the conditions that make angry outbursts difficult to control. These could include physical conditions (time of day, hunger, fatigue), making too many sacrifices (generosity leads to resentment and anger; he says marriage should involve not sacrifices, but solutions about which both people are enthusiastically happy), having assumptions about unspoken understandings, patterns of communication such as demands or disparaging remarks, circumstances like bad traffic or stress at work. Ask: can we control any of these conditions?

5. Train yourself to control your temper when you cannot avoid frustrating situations. This means walking away, or, as the author urges, learning to relax. Practicing relaxing, by imagining something your spouse does that frustrates you, then relaxing after thinking about it—instead of feeling increasingly resentful, feeling more objective. Picturing yourself thinking of solutions without becoming angry. Training your physiologic response.

6. Measure your progress. Ask your spouse to keep track of the day, date, time, circumstances, description of your angry outbursts. Address each one immediately to avoid more in the future.

Thinking over all this helped me realize that deep down, I think I have a right to angry outbursts. I think I need them so Dave understands the depth of hurt that underlies a surface frustration, or so that he gets the intensity of my emotions. Often I see my outbursts as even being productive, because it helps me get it off my chest so I feel better afterwards, and it leads us to discuss some deep issue that we may not otherwise have.

But I’m realizing that my angry outbursts hurt him more than I realize. It erodes at our relationship and is actually counter-productive to problem-solving and negotiating, because I become temporarily irrational, and because it erodes at our basic sense of love and trust. I’m wrapping my mind around the fact that it is necessary, and possible, to make a commitment to never again having another angry outburst.

I think the key to handling anger well is to allow my initial feelings of anger to help get us to that place where we have deep discussions, listening to expressions of hurt, and problem-solving without having an angry outburst. My initial prompting of anger, my feelings of frustration, hurt, jealousy or whatever it is are legitimate. I have to trust that Dave will listen deeply and seriously when I tell him it is serious. I don’t have to have an angry outburst, and when I feel myself becoming angry, I can commit to mentally and physically choosing to relax instead, to walk away temporarily to calm down if I can.

So we’ve worked through those questions with each other, and I think we’re both going to commit to not having angry outbursts. When I’m in a situation where I feel increasing frustration and early anger (which pretty much seems like every night sometimes with the kids acting up), I think, okay, you are starting to get angry. You can choose not to let it burst out. You can choose not to step through that door. It’s not as bad as it feels right now. The world is not as bad as it looks right now. It is not all Dave’s fault, and he is not purposely trying to hurt me. It’s better for you not to say anything right now. You can calm down; you can walk away.

In some ways it’s rewiring how I react, relearning how I communicate. Sometimes I look at the kids, who burst into anger at the slightest provocation, who make selfish demands and lose sight of rationality, and I think, well, it’s born in us. It all has to be redeemed. God has redeemed me. He loves me and I live in grace as his child. I can learn to do this; I can walk in and work out my salvation in this way. He won’t give me more than I can handle in that moment. He will provide a way out for that temptation to have an outburst. I can do it, and he can do it in me.

Spouse as Scapegoat

“Nothing, not even your children, should prevent you from meeting each other’s intimate emotional needs, such as affection, conversation, recreational companionship, and sexual fulfillment. Don’t neglect this time together, because what your children need most from you is parents who love each other. And you will not be in love if you don’t meet each other’s intimate emotional needs.” -Harley, Love Busters

I haven’t had as much time to write lately, mostly because we are spending that spare hour or two we have each night doing the reading, worksheet questions, listening to CDs, and discussing that is part of this marriage class we are taking. The topic for this week is identifying, discussing, analyzing, and having a plan to overcome our biggest “love busters”—the author’s term for activity not related to an unfulfilled need that actively withdraws negative units from the love bank. He categorizes them into six things: annoying habits, angry outbursts, selfish demands, independent behavior, dishonesty, and disrespectful judgments.

A lot of the ones we struggle with involved issues surrounding childcare. It made me realize that, when it comes down to it, Dave often becomes my scapegoat for life struggles. When I get chronically sleep-deprived until it builds up and I hit a wall, the fatigue translates into an irrationally grandiose grumpy mood that affects him, or an angry outburst towards him. When I feel suffocated by my loss of self, I pursue some hobby and leave him trapped with childcare. When I feel unhappy about myself, I somehow find more fault with him. When the kids have pushed my buttons all day, I somehow get irritated at him. When I feel like I can’t get away from it all, I rail at him.

All those are negative units in the love bank. Combine that with less energy and time to make positive deposits by meeting emotional needs, and it’s no wonder that marriages dissolve when people have kids. They say the highest rate of divorce happens during the first year of marriage. The second highest rate occurs within the first year of having your first child. And studies show that happiness in marriage decreases as the number of children increase.

Part of this week is me realizing that all this stuff matters—all this working on stopping things I do that impact Dave negatively. He is not some invisible, eternally-loving and forever available entity in my life. He is a person, with limits, and how he sees me is going to be affected by his interactions with me. I need to commit to, and believe it possible, that I can eradicate these things in my life. That I can actually commit to never having another angry outburst, or simply stop an independent activity that he is not enthusiastic about, or simply not make a selfish demand. The world will not end if, say, I don’t get to shower at a time best for styling my hair for the day, or if I don’t answer all my emails, or if we have to hire an occasional housecleaner.

Part of all this is learning more about myself—having a better internal thermometer for gauging my own spiritual, emotional, and mental health. For knowing what circumstances, situations and behaviors trigger various emotions, so I can choose to react or cope more appropriately, before I get to a point where I feel like I’ve lost control or am acting a certain way without being aware why.

In the end, I care for my children by caring for my spouse. I care for myself when I care for my spouse. It’s easy to take our spouses for granted, especially when the more vocal demands of childcare or work are around, but as usual it’s the less demanding, less urgent thing that is more important.

The Little Things

One thing you learn pretty quickly living in little-kid world is that small things matter. Her headbands must be worn with the bow or flower on a particular side. Making sure Bunny has his blanket tucked in tight is more important than being on time for school. The blue sippy cup, purple spoon, and orange bowl go to Ellie; the green sippy cup, yellow spoon, and butterfly bowl go to Eric. He likes his sandwiches without the crust and his food no warmer than room temperature. She was really touched that I remembered to pack a Kleenex (not a napkin, mind you) into her lunch box.

Kids have this odd attention to detail that would be considered inconvenient at best and dysfunctional at worst in adult terms, but sometimes it can be a refreshing reminder to rethink what is most important. There are definitely plenty of quirky preferences I hope they grow out of, but when I get into their heads, I am reminded that to them what is relational and speaks love is always more important than some task or something more convenient, and that can be good. It is very important to show Nana, their stuffed dog, that we love her by making a house for her and tucking her in properly. It is very important to finish the drawing we are making as a gift for Daddy, even if it means dinner starts late. It is very important to closely examine each other’s (nonexistent) boo-boo’s immediately.

Rick Bass writes that whenever he is confronted with a difficult task or struggle, he thinks about glaciers. A glacier forms from the accumulation of snow that hardens into ice, over years, and once it starts moving, nothing can stop it. He writes that “glaciers get built or not built, simply, miraculously, because the earth is canting a single one-trillionth of a degree in this direction for a long period of time, rather than in that direction.” And then, “When I am alone in the woods, and the struggle seems insignificant or futile… I tell myself that little things matter—and I believe they do. I believe that even if your heart leans just a few degrees to the left or the right of center, that with enough resolve.. and enough time.. the ice will begin to form.. then one day—it must—the ice will begin to slide.”

Kids notice the little things. God notices the little things. The little things matter. The struggle I win over not saying out loud the selfish thought I have in my head. The determination to avoid the source of an unhealthy fantasy. Deciding to wake up with grace towards my kids instead of grumpiness. Listening to a patient for a few more moments instead of rushing out the door. Deciding I’m going to be vulnerable even though I’m scared. The little things are usually unseen, rarely lauded, often unscheduled, but I think they are where life happens. They are what life is. They are the difference between living life in asynchrony and living life with integrity; they are what make us who we are in the end.